


wear you like a halo (you're a symphony, i'm just a sour note)

by frozenspraycans



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Character Study, Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25941628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenspraycans/pseuds/frozenspraycans
Summary: (do you now see what crowley meant by that there were so, so many other priorities to manhandle besides getting laid?)or: crowley navigating through his asexuality
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	wear you like a halo (you're a symphony, i'm just a sour note)

So as it turns out, human beings seemed to categorise the weirdest things on top of their _What Counts As Creating Intimacy Between Two Parties In A Relationship_ list, which Crowley, over the years, realised was really weird, while Azipharale didn’t. Which made Crowley very, very nervous.

Obviously, Crowley didn’t – or want to, actually – get the full picture of his best friend’s sex (ugh, even just saying the word made him want to crawl out of his own skin) life over the past 6000 years, just snippets of experiences that got blurted out when one glass of wine turns to two turns to five turns to fifteen. Whenever the topic got brought up, a small handle cranked in Crowley’s mind, sending a signal to his corporate form to be consciously neutral of his facial expressions and physical movements.

This was to refrain Crowley from 1. showing any of his sex-repulsed nature which would inevitable boil down to the temptation of 2. running right out of Aziraphale’s bookshop to catch his breath from the sheer anxiety of, in the most unprepared fashion, admit to his best friend that he didn’t really enjoy something that he did (and that claim would be in unchartered territory – the precedent was that they always enjoyed each other’s favourite human activities to a certain extent. Like dining in restaurants, feeding ducks, hiding away from any minor inconvenience that could spur into serious problems, etc. Such as the time when Aziraphale announced Crowley was going too fast for him and that led to the two celestial entities staying out of each other’s space for just a tiny bit).

(And by tiny bit, it was over a century, but we didn’t have time to unpack all that).

Sex (ugh) wasn’t an entirely foreign concept – Crowley knew where babies come from – it was an activity that Hell partook in, all with what Lust being one of the Seven Deadly Sins or whatever (sticking coins to a tourist-rampaged streets leads to Greed, or so Crowley argued in defence – Crowley was just trying his very best), but it wasn’t really . . . a thing.

How should Crowley say it.

Unlike on Earth, the beings from Hell did not really care _that_ much about it.

Some of them did it, but no one was really giving a onceover over two bug heads skiddaddling it out in the dark musty corner. There were many other priorities that were more important on their to-do list anyway – notably scheming ways to make mortals fall and waiting for the Anti-Christ to carry out the Great Plan (which, spoiler alert, didn’t happen!). It wasn’t hyped up, and no one really breathed down the necks of those who didn’t engage in such activities.

This was much, much different to how human beings dealt with this kind of shit.

Crowley eavesdropped a lot – 6000 years wandering around cities filled with people that only paid attention to their surroundings to notice celestial beings wandering about when they wanted or chose to (they were especially visible to people who practiced religion, as expected – people see what they believed in), overhearing conversations between people who spoke literally in front of him was inevitable. And he picked up that a common topic was, _surprise surprise_ , who is with who is with who in a romantic relationship.

Crowley soon sparked favouritism towards specific topics that were brought up. He liked hearing about first meetings. And holding hands. And how they truly believed there were soulmates tied by an invisible knot (which was sort of bullshit – but he thrived upon the imagination and free will that humans had). But once the sex topic rolled in, Crowley always felt an awkward prickle upon his skin, the same reflex he had that sent a fight-or-flight response to morph into his serpent form as a defence mechanism and slither away. And Crowley thought it was fine at first. Like mentioned before, Hell beings who didn’t did the do weren’t something to write home about, or a reason to be outcasted or executed.

(It wasn’t seen as treason, or betrayal to their side, unlike fraternising with an angel. Which was totally _not_ what Crowley was doing!)

(Do you now see what Crowley meant by that there were so, so many other priorities to manhandle besides getting laid?)

Crowley decided that he was just confidently dogmatically irreverent. Just like a how a good old-fashioned demon that obviously did not enjoy any sort of humanly activities should be.

But then he found out that his best friend (or: sort of crush that he had pined over for 6000 years) actually found pleasure in doing so, implying having did so in the past few centuries with not one but several beings, some of which were human, leading Crowley to just nervously laugh into his own elbow that was leaned onto Azipharale’s cosy bookshop couch wedged between his piles and piles of dusted books.

It was then he noticed how much sex was placed among the pedestal of priorities among humans. Those that didn’t do it in earlier on in life were considered undesirable and it was powerful enough to break a relationship (affairs weren’t fun and he thought about how Hell was personally responsible for that one) and Crowley, not feeling like a 100 percent celestial being but not fully human as well, just ran away far, far away from the topic. It wasn’t like Azipharale and him would escalate towards a romantic relationship that involved more than hand-holding and cuddling and –

“Crowley, I am in love with you,” confessed Azipharale, holding Crowley’s fingers daintily, looking at him with blue blue eyes with enough adoration to flood a city.

What in god damn Hell’s _fucking_ sake –

And so apparently, they were in a relationship all this time. And that was cool cool super duper cool, and now they can do really cool things like kiss and hold hands but with a . . . romantic intention?

Whatever, being in a relationship was cool!

Until they were kissing and every inch of their skin was pressed onto each other’s and their breath mingled and there was tongue and teeth and the serpent tensed.

Azipharale stopped immediately. When you were a being with seven senses (you picked up the atmosphere far quicker than just having five).

“Crowley?”

Crowley was panting now, a very conscious decision in order to pretend it was from the adrenaline high of touching his lover and not the sheer anxiety of Azipharale pressing against his thigh.

_Oh no no no no no no you fucked this up no no no no the disgust and self-hatred metre is at an all-time HIGH right now boys time to fuck off right back to hell –_

“We can go on,” Crowley immediately said, pressing his lips into Azipharale’s and attempting to deepen in before Azipharale gently held his face in his hands and placed their foreheads impossibly closed together.

“It’s alright –”

“No, it’sssssssssss not,” Crowley’s voice was shaking with an evident lisp now. 6000 years and finally he had the love of his life in his hands, the last thing he was about to do was screw this up.

If he wanted to have sex, then damn fucking straight they were going t –

“Crowley, it seems you’re very tense,” one of Azipharale’s hands moved down towards Crowley’s lower back, cautious, and sure enough scales formed beneath the angel’s fingers, and Crowley hid his face in the nape of Aziraphale’s neck, blood rushing up his cheeks as quick as the realisation hit that he had been caught out. “If you didn’t want to go further, why didn’t you stop me?”

“Becaussssssssse,” Crowley drew out, “you want it. It’s fine. It’s just another thing humans do, we try new humanly things all the time!” He wondered why Aziraphale hadn’t drawn his hands back, so many years of pent-up self-loathe that brewed under the surface still didn’t allow Crowley to believe that Aziraphale, a godly being from the highest Heavens, would want to taint his sinless skin by touching his. Even if the Aziraphale was tolerating Crowley, She should just strike him down yet again, for even merely being near one of Her children.

“This is different,” Aziraphale coaxed gently, his hands finally moving from Crowley’s lower back and took one of Crowley’s hands, mindlessly rubbing slow circles at the back of it. “It’s an act that involves both of us. I would never want you to feel uncomfortable, physical state or not.”

Crowley was speechless for a second, like someone just threw a book at the back of his head and knocked him out. In an urgency he held onto Aziraphale’s hand. “I’m a demon, you do not have to worry such things about me. I, of course I’d want to do it! With you. You’re an angel, I –” Crowley drew in a deep breath. “It’s just – how bad can it be? And it’s with you. I shouldn’t be nervous. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale breathed. Crowley was on the verge of convulsing and he knew it. He reached to gently stroke his face, soft and feather-like.

Crowley had no memory of Heaven but the privilege to be touched by Aziraphale seemed close enough.

“We don’t have to do anything that you’re not completely sure of,” he left a kiss in the corner of the demon’s mouth. “We averted the apocalypse, didn’t we? We have all the time the world has for us.”

“But,” Crowley said with urgency. It was quite amusing, with the exterior that they portrayed, Aziraphale was supposed to be the one constantly running on anxiety, and Crowley was supposed to be the one perfectly guarded and relaxed. He had his best friend in one hand and a starter handle in the other – whatever life threw at them, they could make it out alive.

When in reality it was the complete opposite – Crowley was always the one stressed about everything. The restaurant bookings, the plants with spots, the impending inevitable doom of Aziraphale waking up and realising that he didn’t need to love the demon anymore – this was no different. “But, but – they might come back for us. We barely escaped with a scratch the last time, and they might do it again –”

Aziraphale cut him off by wrapping his arms around Crowley. “Then let them,” Aziraphale stated. “Is this okay?” he whispered.

Crowley nodded mutely before looking up to an angelic force rushing behind Aziraphale’s blue eyes. “We’ll defeat them. Again,” a kiss on his eyelids, “again,” a kiss on his cheek, “and again,” he finally met his lip with his hereditary rival.

Nothing but a fallen angel.

Outside, the town where the wind blows was slowly waking up.


End file.
